


Innermost

by starscrearn



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, innermost energon practices, lots of headcanons/theorizing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 13:23:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14935085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starscrearn/pseuds/starscrearn
Summary: Swerve gives a measure. Rung returns the favor.





	Innermost

_ As with most Cybertronian citystates, it is common practice in Helex to provide an individual with one standard measure of innermost energon (in accordance with the standard practices for the giver’s frame size and structure) if someone close to them in involved in an event where it is unlikely they will survive. _

_ However, it is also common in Helex to provide an individual with one half-measure of innermost energon as a sign of the deepest, most sparkfelt apology. Generally these donations are only provided when the giver feels they have caused grievous harm to the recipient, regardless of whether or not the harm is considered life-threatening. This is seen both as the sincerest of apologies, as stated previously, and as a promise that the giver intends to never again cause harm to the recipient, either through their actions or their inactions. _

_ In most communities in Helex, gifting someone a half-measure of innermost energon for these reasons is regarded with the same gravity as the amica process, though some areas hold it in even higher esteem. However, the two practices should not be considered equivalent. _

\--Excerpt from  _ Innermost Practices of Cybertron, _ chapter 7, page 174.

=========

Swerve crept into the medibay late in the night cycle. The place looked deserted, though he knew that at least one of the ship’s medics was likely tucked away in the back room, on hand in case of an emergency. He turned the little vial he held over in his fingers, watching as it caught the tiny glimmers of light cast by the various monitors around the room.

His hand shook.

He tucked the vial away before he could drop it and headed for the back of the medibay, ducking around the spill of light on the floor from the open door. Swerve paused when he heard someone shifting around, waited until they stopped, and kept going. 

The curtain was drawn, but he still knew it was Rung tucked away in the last space. Beside him lay a half-completed helm with eerie, hollow optics and wires trailing from the side, and above his shoulder lay the model ship Swerve had brought with him in the aftermath of the incident weeks ago. He stopped next to the psychiatrist’s body and drew the half-measure back out, fiddling with it and flicking it back and forth.

“Normally you’d, uh,” he started. He quietly cleared his throat and tried again. “Normally you’re supposed to say something when you do this, but, uh, I don’t think you can hear me so I’m just gonna…” He glanced from the vial that didn’t feel like nearly enough back up to Rung. “Leave this, I guess.”

He lifted the psychiatrist’s limp hand from his side and flipped it over. The mech’s fingers uncurled automatically as his hand fell back. Swerve pressed the little vial into his palm, closed his fingers securely around it, and lowered it back onto his chest, settling it over his sparkglass.

“I’m--”

His voice broke.

“I’m sorry, Rung.”

When Ambulon made his rounds a few minutes later, Swerve was gone. The vial remained where it was.

=========

_ The traditions around gifting measures of innermost energon have undergone many additions and transformations in the Pious Pools, due to the intensive redevelopment of many areas within them, including the Vinvissius Canals. These changes attracted new Cybertronians to the area, who brought their own practices with them, which were eventually adapted into the area’s culture. In this chapter, more focus will be given to the older surviving practices, as they remain more distinct from the more universal practices of Cybertron, which have already been discussed. _

_ One of the oldest surviving practices in the Pious Pools is that of gifting an individual with a measure of innermost energon as thanks, if the giver was initially a recipient. In some areas, unless the intended recipient is particularly well-known to the giver-- that is, unless they are amica or conjunx endurae-- such a gesture may be considered frivolous; as with all innermost practices, such a gift is considered a superlative expression, be it of joy, sorrow, or gratitude, and deserves to be treated as such. However, in most of the Pious Pools, no such relation is seen as necessary and the only requirements are that the gratitude be pure and sincere, and that the giver was initially a recipient. _

_ [...] _

_ It is interesting to note that it is not uncommon for intentions to be mixed with regards to gifting in the Pious Pools. For example, an individual may provide another with a measure both to express their sorrow at an event and to thank them for a previous gift of innermost energon. _

\--Excerpt from  _ Innermost Practices of Cybertron, _ chapter 18, page 438

=========

Rung slipped into the medibay long after the fuss had died down, but even so, he nearly ran straight into Ratchet. The old medic offered him a relatively amicable grunt in greeting and shifted out of his way; he returned a slight nod and stepped past him. He headed further into the medibay, past Rewind and his table full of vials of innermost, scanning for a small frame.

Swerve was towards the back of the room, resting almost on his side. His face, badly damaged and heavily bandaged pending repairs, was turned towards Rung, and he appeared to be offline. His fingers twitched sporadically, grasping at something unseen. The psychiatrist stopped beside him and reset his vocalizer with a quiet cough. Swerve didn’t react, confirming his suspicion. 

He frowned, face plates drawn tight in sympathetic pain, and stood there fiddling with his his hand, fishing for something to say, a few words that fit the situation. His vocalizer felt like it was clogged with regret, and resetting it again did nothing to help.

Rung drew a small vial out of one of his compartments and cast about uselessly for a moment, searching for somewhere to place it. After a fruitless search he settled it into Swerve’s palm, hooking the chain he’d strung the little thing on around his fingers and under his thumb. He rested his hand over the bartender’s, pressing the vial securely into it.

“Rest well, Swerve,” he murmured. 

He nodded to Ratchet again on his way out.

**Author's Note:**

> this grew out of some ideas i had while writing Whole that didn't fit into that fic. enjoy!


End file.
